Rebuild
by lostmidtranslation
Summary: AU: Katniss dies at the end of the 74th Games and Peeta's left to rebuild his life. A simple Argument makes him run and he's left in the snow, until an angel with a sunset scarf comes and offers him a drink. T for Lang.
1. Divine

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

_**This came about mainly because I don't think Catching Fire was right. So i'm pretending it's not real. And that Katniss dies, because i'm not so sure if i like her anymore.**_

"_You're empty from all of the pain... so how do you call it divine?" -__** Divine **__– Lee Broderick_

_**Peeta Mellark, Victor of the 74**__**th**__** Hunger Games**_

_**Collapse**_.

My chest explodes and I yell out, half-screaming, half-whimpering and feeling my world crashing in on me, my stomach clenching as I pushed everyone else away and held her close to my chest.

"Katniss?" I whimpered, tugging at her braid to try and get her to respond. She didn't move and I shook, my arms barely holding me over her as the tears I was shedding dropped onto her face, streaking down her cheeks and hitting the dry, hot floor.

The cannon fired and I heard Caesar's voice shouting about me.

_Just me. _

I groaned again, trying to lift myself to my feet. My leg gave out and I collapsed beside Katniss, still holding onto her hand and not daring to let go, because I was afraid if I did, I would end up dying myself. I wasn't strong enough.

I was faster; I didn't choke on the berries. She swallowed before... before...

"Katniss?" I sobbed now, rolling over and pulling the Mockingjay pin from her quiver-strap, feeling it stick into my finger as I pulled away and let my eyes close, trying not to look around, and trying not to focus on the girl lying beside me.

The hovercrafts come, but I don't want to think of it. I shut my eyes and just let myself feel my way. I sighed as the humming of the hovercraft went silent and I was engulfed in darkness once again.

"Breathe, Peeta." I told myself, trying to forget the world around me. I had to leave. I had to change my face. I couldn't be around here, I couldn't be around her.

How could I face the district with everyone else expecting me to... I loved her. She was everything to me and I failed. Haymitch will kill me. Gale will kill me. Everyone I know will probably kill me.

I really, really didn't want to move.

When I opened my eyes again, things felt weird. My lips were wet, I may have licked them, I don't know. My leg was on fire, though. Every part of my body felt as though it was trying to destroy itself, I felt like my skin was betraying me, crawling as though I was covered with spiders. I shuddered and lifted myself into a sitting position, pulling myself up and looking down at my feet.

One was partially silver.

"What's going on?" I heard myself yelling but my voice seemed to be far off in the distance. My arms shook weakly and I felt myself fall back down onto the flat, cold surface, my head hitting it hard, snapping back with a loud _thunk_. "Fuck!" I couldn't help but swear. It damn well hurt.

"Mr. Mellark, you're with us!" The voice was in my head, high pitched and close. Effie Trinkett span into my vision and I blinked hard, trying to work out what was going on.

"Where's Katniss?" My throat managed the words, hoarse, cracked and dry, and I felt my lip split right in the centre, a drop of blood dripping down my chin.

"She..." Effie looks around for another explanation, something to say to me to placate me, because in that second, I remembered.

_Berries. Blood red, my throat burning but then a klaxon wailing and she was choking, I was washing my mouth out, desperate to banish the too-sweet taste. _

"Katniss is dead, isn't she Effie?" My head fell into my hands and I let out a half-wail, half-scream, desperate to be away from the feeling.

"Would you like to try walking, Peeta?" A Capitol man with a blank face almost pulls me from the bed I'm laying on, his grip so tight around my arm that I'm sure it'll bruise. i yank my arm from his grip and growl, furious at his arrogance, determined not to get too close to these people.

They took my Katniss.

They did it.

"I will." I lick my lips and feel the sting, remembering the split too late, wincing because i wasn't expecting it. "Damn." I slide off the table weakly, looking anywhere but at my feet, and trying to walk as normal.

_Tentative steps taken: 4. _

Haymitch appeared in the doorway as I reached the supplies cupboard next to the portal. I swallowed, a little afraid to look at him, my heart pounding as he raised his arm, brought it forward and touched my face gently.

"Good." He nodded at me. "Well done." I knew he wasn't just saying well done for the steps I had taken across the room.

He seemed sober and he seemed shaky on his feet. He wasn't staring into space, as usual; he was focussed directly on me. He gripped my shoulder tight, but it didn't hurt - the pain in his eyes enough to subdue me.

_I wasn't supposed to survive. This wasn't supposed to happen and I wasn't supposed to be around, looking at him like this, wondering why it was me that survived those berries and those... horrors. _

"Why?" I managed to hiss, my lips sticking together because of the blood, the pain in my chest amplifying as i saw her again. Katniss, lying on the floor. "Why her?"

"Because." Haymitch said softly. "I know, Peeta." He spoke after a long time, a long silence. "Things won't get better until you understand that... things happen. You won't understand it for a while, either, i don't think."

I blinked and he let my shoulder go, my skin still crawling. My leg chose that second to sear pain through my entire body, i shook and felt my knee give out, my left leg collapsing, sending me straight to the floor. I swallowed loudly and tried to stand up, falling sideways again, but feeling Haymitch beside me, holding me up.

"Thank you." I hissed, trying to stay upright long enough to retrieve clothes and dress myself. I swallowed again and pulled on a jumper, a pair of jeans, wrapping my arms around myself as i tried not to think.

I think the Capitol took pity on me. I really do, because i was back at home within three days, nobody could see me, nobody interviewed me.

I didn't have to play up the sheer volume of grief that engulfed me. My stomach hurt every time I thought of Katniss, but every time i tried to do anything, i think of how it should have been her sitting there, reading antique books, sitting there, looking mindlessly into space.

She was the one who'd be missed. Nobody has visited me, nobody at all. I looked to the floor as I thought about it. I was average. My parents didn't need my. My family didn't want me, my brother Leemac and his girlfriend Ollive came to offer me condolences, but my older brother Kellin was uninterested.

Most people didn't care. I hadn't seen anyone in days, and i needed to get out. I knew it, but i couldn't face everyone else. I felt destroyed, empty, damaged and in pain.

"Katniss." I whispered, tears dripping down my face as i curled up on my bed, my body shaking, for the millionth night in a row.

_Nightmares plagued me, three weeks after the event i was still curled up, waking up screaming and begging for someone to help me, for someone to bring Katniss back, for anyone to provide for me. I needed someone to aid me, someone to... to do anything. _

I held my pillow to my chest as I sunk deeper under the covers, my face flushed but sweating. There was a noise in the house, something loud and repetitive, something furious and harried, yet peaceful and totally destructive to my attempts at sleep.

"No relaxation." I felt myself murmuring.

Effie Trinkett. Portia Lesteen. Haymitch Abernathy. Cinna...

It's taken them three months.

"What?" I manage to breathe out, knowing i haven't been in a fit state to entertain for the past three months, and i'm unlikely to have the strength for that to change in the next four minutes.

"Hello to you too!" Effie chimes, though her orange wig is ruffled and she looks unnerved. "Come in, people, we've got lots to do and no time to do it."

She considers me as Portia sets up somewhere upstairs, Cinna also watching me from his seat on the third-from-bottom step.

"Katniss wouldn't have wanted this." They say simultaneously.

"Sorry?" It's the only word i can push from my lips. "You think I want to be like this?"

"Peeta, Effie's trying to help you."

"You've not shaved, Peeta," I bring my hand up reflexively and Cinna watched me, a half smile playing around his eyes, "It's a good look on you."

"Bullshit." I swallowed and looked at Effie, "And you, you're all about image, aren't you?"

"Are you even eating?" Cinna didn't know me, how could _he_ be telling _me _all this stuff?

"Er... yes..." I managed lamely, but he looked back at me with a light frown, and i looked back at him, "Would you eat if you felt like this?"

"I can't say." I heard his words, but i was so close to killing him, killing everyone in the room. "I think you need to go somewhere, Peeta. I don't exactly know where, but perhaps you should... get out, somewhere?"

"Are you saying...?"

"I'm not saying anything, Peeta! Just... maybe you should go somewhere, do something," Cinna's voice was low, slow and kind, but the look in his eyes was a furious one. I shuddered under his gaze.

"What're you saying? I should go out and get help, or what?"

"I don't know! But you're killing yourself like this, and nobody likes to see it!" Haymitch's voice floated in through the kitchen and i roared curses at him, furious, broken and hurt.

I wanted to kill at least one of them.

I knew i could do it because i'd done it before.

Eithout thinking, i let out a furious roar.

"You want me to get out more? You want me to go somewhere and find something to occupy me?" They were all staring at me.

I almost sprinted from the room, fury blinding me and fear coursing through my chest. i was becoming bloody unhinged, over this! Over an argument. I let out another growl, picked up my keys, tugged a thin hoodie from the pegs on the wall and screamed in frustration as i slammed the door behind me and threw myself outside, into the snow.

I had slippers on, slippers that would totally disintegrate in the snow, i had my pyjama bottoms on – i had only just woken up, i was furious. I wanted to kill something.

I slipped in the snow and landed on my arse, looking up at the sunset framing the market square.

There was someone standing in the far corner, their blonde hair whipped up into two plaits, wrapped around her neck like a scarf. She was wearing gloves, black boots and a cowboy hat, of all things.

Her hands were gloved, knitted awkwardly but they looked warm. I was soaking wet, fallen to the floor, unable to get back up for fear of damaging myself. She had a knife in one hand, and something else in the other.

It was a fruit, of some form, but i had never seen it before. She stepped across the square as i swore, my words ringing out as i slipped back to the floor on the ice, my slippers helpless compared to her thick-soled boots.

"Here." She muttered, stowing the knife into her belt, offering me the green fruit that had a wedge taken out of it. "It's an apple. It won't kill you." She looked me up and down, then tilted her head slightly.

"Who are you?" I muttered, taking the fruit and biting into it. It was soft, sweet and delicious. "Angel?" I murmured. _Angel? Where had that come from? Granted she was blonde... but, maybe not an angel..._

"Ha!" Her one-syllable laugh echoed through the empty square and she offered me her hand. "Angel? Me? Yeah, right." I looked at her. "Callie." Her voice was low and for a second, i felt a glimmer of hope. Callie, offering me her hand.

"Peeta," I managed hoarsely, and she smiled lightly at me.

"Peeta Mellark?" She asked softly. "The Victor?"

"The very same." She flushes and looks at my unshaven cheeks, my hollowed out eyes and my tired features. I take her hand and she pulls me to my feet, her fingertips warm in the gloves I so desperately want.

She feels the coolness of my skin and pulls the scarf from her neck. It is thin, but black and varying shades of a beautiful sunset orange, interwoven in a tartan pattern. Without a word, she loops it around my neck and wraps it tight, so i can't be cold. I shudder and she gently touches my cheek, her smile not quite pitying, not quite fearful. I think she is genuinely upset, and I wonder why.

She doesn't know me. She can hardly _care._

"I know this is probably very awkward, but... would you like a drink?"

:-:-:-:

_**Would you be out of the door with Peeta? Would you fall on the ice and pray someone helps you up?**_

_**Review?**_

_**Concrit is always welcome.**_

_**I've read catching fire now. I'm happy to rant with anyone?**_

_**Love and Fluffy Peeta Hugs (Erm, or something along those lines.)**_

_**x**_


	2. Seeing Stars

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

_**This came about mainly because I don't think Catching Fire was right. So I'm pretending it's not real. And that Katniss dies, because I'm not so sure if I like her anymore.**_

"_... If you want to hate me, then hate me / What can I do? / But Baby / I'll be giving it all for you" –__** Seeing Stars **__– Steve Appleton_

_**Peeta Mellark, Victor of the 74**__**th**__** Hunger Games**_

_**Callie.**_

I surveyed her as she crouched down to pick up her knife; it had dropped to the floor and cracked the ice with its heavy handle. She stuck it back into her belt and looked at me expectantly.

"Well?" Her accent was slightly foreign, she didn't sound like she was from our District. She didn't even sound as though she was from Panem. "Is there a problem, Peeta?" She tilted her head and leaned forward slightly, taking my hand again. I wrenched my fingers from her grip as though I was burned, and she bit her bottom lip, looking terribly upset.

"I... Well, I hardly know you." I managed to get the words out of my throat. I needed to drink something, definitely, because the feeling in the back of my throat hadn't been around for a very long time. It was the burn that made me feel like I wanted to cry, to speak out loud, and spill everything I've ever felt to this girl. I didn't even know her. She watched me for another few seconds, then turned away and started striding back into the shadows.

Walked away without... without a word. _I felt like screaming, falling to my knees in the snow. _She turned away from me. I reached out but she was far enough to miss my pathetic swipe at her coat, my attempt for her attention_. I had to thank her, but I hadn't a clue..._ I had hardly spoken in three months, taking myself from the social scene because I couldn't bear the accusing looks. _Take my hand again; you're the first person I've touched in months. _

"Callie!" I heard my voice saying her name just as she aimed a kick at the snowdrift closest to her feet. She stopped, almost comically losing her balance but catching herself just in time, and whipping her head round to look at me so fast that her plaits snapped around, swung in the air and collided with the side of her head.

"Ow." She muttered, watching me warily as I took three tentative steps closer to her.

"Y-you alright?" Her lips curved into a half smile and she nodded, then reached out her hand to me, helped me navigate the ice that led down the alleyway she had appeared from. "Err..." I coughed, my tone shifting up and down like a strangled mouse, "Is it okay if I-I walk you home?"

"You'll have to change." She said softly, and I looked at her, expecting some kind of explanation and some kind of... reasoning. "You'll die of hypothermia or pneumonia if you walk through the snow like that. I'm sure we can find something for you." She smiled lightly and turned, walking hurriedly, as though she was cold.

"Where were you going?" I found the conversation exploding from my lips before I could even think. _Why did I care? She wasn't even a friend of mine. She just... _I looked at her back, her eyes glued to the path ahead of her. She looked upset about something, but I wasn't sure what. Her hand travelled to the braid in her hair and she swallowed, trailing her fingers across the criss-cross pattern formed by the knots. She didn't reply, so I found myself asking again. Twice more. Three times. Finally, she looked up and turned to me.

"Just walking. I wanted to see the District Market." She said softly. "And I was told I needed to –" She stopped and looked at me, "It doesn't matter." She whispered, turned back and started walking again, still shaking her head and not saying another word. I hated her for that. She was sullen-looking, her arms folded across her chest and her head ducked down, and she wouldn't give me a straight answer. I felt as though I was being left alone again, as though someone was determined for me to live and die alone. "It's no problem. I've found what I was looking for," She dropped her voice and turned a corner.

By now, I was shaking in my slippers, they were soaked through and my feet were wet too, the water seeping through and I wanted to say something about it, to complain simply to create conversation. She looked over at me and frowned slightly as we turned a corner into the more expensive area of District 12. This was the posh part, not the Seam. It was close to the Winner's Circle, and I pulled her scarf around my neck as we neared the light-coloured buildings.

She pulled a key from her pocket and turned to one of the doors. As she stood, turning the key in the lock, I felt a little bit ill, and reckoned I needed to lay down somewhere. She turned to look at me and I tried to let the corners of my mouth curl up, tried to smile, but my heart wasn't in it.

_My heart wasn't in much now, though_.

~()~

She told me to strip.

"Strip?" I blurted incredulously and she looked at me.

"Got a reaction out of you, didn't it?" She let out a laugh, "Thought you'd zoned out permanently there." I watched her as she tugged her gloves off, then her boots, her hoodie. She pulled it over her head with such grace that I was stunned for a moment. Her eyes, no matter how blue they were, were hypnotic and familiar and different and everything I could see in them frightened me. She looked a little unhinged, her hair a mess, dressed in only a half-buttoned shirt and a pair of jeans now that she wasn't wrapped in warm clothes to fight the freezing winter outside.

"Very funny." I made a face and scowled only seconds later.

"You will need to take those off though." She murmured, indicating everything I was wearing, "You'll catch you're dea- something." She whispered, "Erm, the bathroom's upstairs." She smiled, "First door on your left. Take the towel and gently pat yourself dry, wrap yourself up, so you're comfortable, keep your torso warm, and I'll bring you something to wear quickly." She smiled at me and I nodded back.

She followed me up the stairs and took a right turn instead of a left, disappearing down the hallway. I shut the bathroom door behind me, found the cupboard with towels in and pulled my outerwear off, standing in the bath in my boxers and patting myself dry just like she told me to. My hands were shaking as I felt my knee give out, I fell to the base of the white bath with a metallic clang and I heard someone sprinting down the corridor. As I kept my eyes closed and tried to fight the tears building up in my chest, I felt a pair of hands gently running through my hair and across my shoulders, soothing me.

"Hey... hey, Peeta," She whispered to me, her lips close to my ear, "I'm going to try and get you to stand, alright?" Her hand wrapped around me and I practically tore it from my body, "Please, Peeta, let me help you!" Her voice was thick, my head was spinning and I felt like I was going to be sick, stars and orange explosions courting my vision.

I let out a whimper and felt myself fall sideways, she gathered me into her arms and I'm pretty sure it was only then that I blacked out, because when I opened my eyes, I was dressed in tartan black-and-blue pyjamas, curled up on my side with my knees drawn up tight to my chest. There was a glass of water resting on the side, a pair of red and white pills resting on a small note beside the glass. My head pounded as I moved, thumping furiously as I tried to focus.

"They're headache tablets," I read aloud and looked at the pills in my hand, "Don't worry about getting up, you're safe here. Sleep well, _Callie_." I frowned slightly and looked at the window. The curtains were open and I could see the snow swirling outside. Something inside me stirred for the first time in a while as I looked at the light piling of snow at the window. I think it was happiness, maybe hope, but I'm not entirely sure. My lips curved but I didn't feel the direction they curved in.

A few seconds later, I leaned over, picked up the water and took the little pills. My fingers twitched for a few seconds, but my headache disappeared within a moment of swallowing the tablets. I forced myself to sit up, then stand up and look around the room.

There were images on the wall, small pictures of a lush green land I didn't know existed, and people, grouped up together and smiling at the camera. The girl who I assumed was downstairs, Callie, was sitting in the centre of one of them, a boy sitting next to her holding a notebook and she looked like she was sitting for a sketch. Posing.

My chest pounded and I felt my body shaking again. Within a second I was sitting back down on the bed, taking in the smell of the room, fresh, cool, but warm and inviting like cinnamon. My hands made fists and gathered up groups of the bedding, trying to quell the rush of sickness and fury that had crashed through me at the sight of the picture. There was a light knock at the door as I groaned and tried to get up again.

"Hello?" Her voice was soft, gently testing the silence of the room. I lay back down and pulled the blankets over me quickly, feigning sleep. I wondered if she would come in, would try and wake me. "Peeta?" She pushed the door lightly and it swung open, flooding the room with more light and revealing her silhouette, her hair all over the place, let out from her plaits and wavy, smooth but dampish. She stepped forward slowly, obviously thinking I was asleep. I didn't want to talk to her yet. I couldn't face anyone properly yet, and I feared that I would have to, now that I was sleeping in her bed.

She crossed the room near silently, then, as her footfalls disappeared from the thick carpet, I felt the bed dip down on the far side and she must have been kneeling over me. I groaned and rolled over, trying not to open my eyes.

There was a long silence and I heard her sigh.

"I'm sorry, Peeta," She whispered, and I felt her hand rise up my cheek, brushing hair from my face, stroking it lightly, making my skin tingle, "For everything that's ever happened to you." She leaned over me and touched my forehead lightly, "Sweetheart, you're burning up," She whispered, like a mother; like a friend. I was stunned by her display of compassion, of affection – I barely knew her but it seemed she was lovelier than I had thought.

I don't know if she knew I was awake or not, but she leaned over me, kissed my forehead and I felt the bed shift again, she was gone and my eyes flickered open, noting I was alone in the room. Minutes later, she returned, knocking again, before pushing the door lightly and jumping back in surprise as she saw me sitting up.

"Ai!" She yelped and practically sprinted forward, "Peeta, I didn't wake you, did I?" Her eyes were wide and slightly fearful; she took in the half-drunk glass of water and the lack of pills on the bedside table, "You're not feeling too bad? Do you want to get up? Here, put this on your forehead, cool you down a little, you're very warm-"

She went to place a soft, wet flannel on my forehead but I waved her hands away.

"Peeta-"

"No." I said sullenly and folded my arms. She took another step towards me and tried again, but I held up my arms, waved her away again. "Please, Kat-Callie." I bowed my head and bit my lip. She wasn't Katniss.

"Well, if you're going to be like that... If you don't want my help," She said, her tone growing harsh and her lips twisting into a scowl, "You can get the hell out of my bed; get the hell out of those pyjamas and walk home naked."

She turned away and stepped from the room, furious and hurt if the look on her face was anything to go by.

I toyed with opening my mouth and shouting an apology after her, but my stomach flipped, I swallowed the words and whimpered as she caught the door handle with her fingertips as she strode past it, bringing the weighty wood panelling slamming into the doorframe and making it shake with the loudest slam I had ever heard.

I looked down as I felt something damp on my leg; saw the flannel sitting against my knee, the water from it soaking into the duvet. _She left it for you. Cool off, Peeta. Maybe she wants to help._

I sat back, pulling the cool, wet flannel from my knee and settling it on my forehead and wiping it gently across my face. She was right. I was burning up, and I needed to calm down.

~()~

It was eleven o'clock. I hadn't left the room I was in and I wasn't sure if I was strong enough to face her. I realised, sometime around four that I hadn't heard from her at all, the whole day had been the silent treatment and I didn't know how I was supposed to react. I was hungry though; far hungrier than I had been for the past three weeks.

Food. I could smell it at half-past-six. There was the sweet smell of cinnamon, but bolognaise was cooking too, then twenty minutes later, I heard a call up the stairs. It was muffled but then again, I wasn't going to answer it either way.

The knocking started at seven.

"Peeta?" Her voice was slow, unsure, "I didn't mean what I said." She was upset, clearly, "I won't throw you out until you're better," But I wasn't ill... I just... "I could walk you home later if you don't want to be here... I totally understand if..."

She stopped and gently knocked again.

"I'm sorry." She whispered again, but my silence was stronger than I had thought, it pushed her away so much that she wasn't there when I got up and went to the bedroom door to see if she was there.

She knocked five minutes ago.

"Peeta, if you're awake, erm, I don't know what to say," her voice was emanating from the bottom of the doorframe, "I didn't mean to offend you, I didn't mean to hurt you, I wanted to help you and I hope we can start again tomorrow morning?"

Silence. Not because I wanted to be horrible, but because I couldn't speak.

"Goodnight, Peeta." She murmured, "Best dreams." I heard her steps down the hall.

"Thank you." I whispered, "_Angel_."

~()~

Screaming. I could hear screaming, quite clearly, and the screamer was damned close to me. I felt my lungs vibrating and I realised that it was me.

My eyes snapped open at the bang of the door and light flooded the room, forcing me to shield my face from the glow, at risk of screaming again. My chest was pounding, but all I remember was seeing _her _eating those berries.

"Katniss?" I asked the silhouette in the doorway. Then I kicked myself for being stupid and weak and idiotic and hurt and... I realised that she wasn't in the doorway anymore. She had stepped through the room and was sitting next to me, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She wore thick-rimmed black glasses and a small frown.

"Are you alright?"

"Not really." I shook my head.

She whispered, "Do you want me to stay?"

"I..." _Did I want someone to sit with me until I fell asleep? _"I don't w-want to-"

"I'll go if you want me to," I shook my head furiously. "Stay?" I nodded, blushed and she rose, crossed the room and shut the door. "Okay." She watched me lay down, she waited for me to get comfortable and then she lay down next to me, on top of the covers where I was resting beneath them.

"Callie?" I ventured her name after a few minutes of silence. "I'm not mad at you." I heard her shift and realised she was looking at me.

"I'm not mad at you either." She whispered back. "I know I don't know you, but..." She sighed, "I do care."

"How old are you?" I didn't want to sleep. I was afraid to sleep again.

"Eighteen in two weeks." She whispered back, "You?"

"I was seventeen on the nineteenth of September." I heard myself murmuring. "You're not from District 12?"

"Clearly," She smiled in the darkness, I could hear it in her voice, then, "see, I was born in Quantac, in Ayera."

"Where's that?" I didn't know much about Quantac – the continent itself was a modern-day Europe, but Ayera didn't make my brain click onto anything, "I don't know it well..."

"It's where... erm... do you know where England was? Great Britain?" I nodded lightly and she continued, "There was a country there, Ireland. It used to be... they used to call it Eire."

"Is that Ayera?" She nodded.

"The Pronunciation shifted quite violently, and so I'm technically Irish, but also Ayrish." She pronounced them both slowly for me and I repeated them back to her. "Most of the language is the same though. Just the country-name shifted."

"Right." I nodded and looked anywhere but at her, because in the half-light, she genuinely was very beautiful. My fingers tightened on the blanket and I stared up at the ceiling, fixing my eyes on a crack in the paint. "Won't your family be pissed there's a boy sleeping in your bed?"

"Family?" She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. I wanted to smile but my muscles wouldn't twist enough for me to move my lips right. "I don't know my family, although my father, he's an ambassador, he's funded this. He's... he's letting me move here for a while. See what the people are like..."

"You're only seventeen though." I found myself whispering, my heart dropping as I realised that she could well be entered into the Reaping next year. "You could end up where I did."

"It's Ambassador's rights. No child of a foreign representative shall be subjected to the Hunger Games." She said in a flat voice and I touched her cheek, realising there were so many things going on in my head now, and I didn't understand a single one of them.

She rubbed her fingers up my arm and smiled at me lightly.

"Get some sleep, Peeta. I won't leave, I promise." I nodded at her, still wondering why I would need her to lay there with me. I shut my eyes, pretended there was nothing I could do, and tried to get some sleep.

-x-x-x-

_**A/N There was a slight disaster involving my latest chapter of Broken Dreams. It sort of imploded on my computer, but I'm working at my fastest to get it out to you! I'm so sorry about this!**_

_**I suppose this is hardly a replacement, seeing as nobody actually likes this, or reads it, or... well, does anybody actually care about this story? Anyone at all?**_

_**Please review and let me know**_

_**Or don't. I'll just cry.**_

**_xx_**


	3. Sway

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

**I think Katniss Got Bella-Fied in Catching Fire. Grr. I say. Grr.**

"_I won't judge you." __**Sway -**__ The Kooks._

_**Callie Flynn, Daughter of the Ayrish Ambassador to Panem**_

I opened my eyes and sighed furiously. There was darkness around me, I felt trapped but there was a darker thing wrapped around the emotions in my brain. I rolled over and realised I had ended up lying on someone's arm.

_In my bed. _

"Hello?" I blinked twice and everything flooded back into my head. _Peeta Mellark, 74__th__ winner of the Panem Hunger Games. Nightmare. Panic, desperation and fury, all directed at me. _That'll be the darkness in my head, then.

"What?" He sounded stunned and terrified, jerking his hand out from under my head furiously, so i slipped back and my head slammed down onto the pillow; hard. _Prick._ "Callie?" Another pause, filled with awkward a million times over, and I felt as though I had to say or do something.

"Did you sleep well?" I managed to scratch out of my throat and swallowed when his eyes opened tiredly, then widened at the sight of me, "What, do I look ridiculous?"

"I... did I spend the night in your bed? I, erm... I-" He managed to bluster, his face going from a normal colour, to bright pink in a matter of seconds. His blush was strangely addictive, I sort of wondered if it was just that he was attractive and the colour in his cheeks changed his face completely, throwing it into this sort of... well, I couldn't describe it.

I sighed as I considered him for a long minute, and then threw my head back, running a hand through my hair and giggled.

"Morning sunshine." My tone was far too jolly for what it should have been, he looked at me like he was about to cry and my smile started slipping away. "Erm, I was going to make you breakfast, and then thought we could walk you home? Your parents will be worried."

He looked at me for too long. His breathing was dull and his eyes had lost every glimmer of his sleep-induced happiness. He swallowed and frowned slightly, crossing his arm across his chest defensively as he looked me up and down.

"I'm not hungry." He said slowly, his hands tensing as I reached forward and lightly ran my fingers across his forehead, "Wha-"

"I'm just checking your fever. You really were burning up yesterday, I was quite worried..." I felt my skin flushing and risked a glance in the mirror. I was pink in an old cartoon-style blush, my face heating further, crimson washing over my lips and my cheeks as I realised I was still sitting there, my hand touching his face ridiculously lightly, and half of me wanted to gently run my fingers up and down his skin, run my fingertips across his lips, lean forward, kiss him, touch him – _fuck_.

"Is-I-Kat-Callie?" He looked stunned as I rested back on my knees, and then forced myself to get up and leave the room. I stopped at the sound of my name and turned my head to look at him. I genuinely hadn't considered him before. I didn't know who he was when I met him – in Ayera, the Panem Hunger Games weren't in our main news, they were the sort of "_and finally_" stories because Ayera and Quantac were generally peaceful areas. Violence wasn't particularly... we didn't take it lightly and we didn't dish it out so _easily_, and if it came on the news, I didn't have to sit and watch it.

When I saw him sitting in the snow, two days ago now, I have to admit, even with his sullen, sad, terrified outside, I could see he was... I hesitate to say gorgeous, or beautiful, but he was. He was anything and everything I could have asked for. So I gave him the apple. It was the least I could honestly do.

"Yes?" I looked into his eyes and he blinked and looked down. He couldn't even look at me. Perhaps he _wouldn't _look at me. "A-are you alright, Peeta?"

"No." He said softly, and I was struck by the honesty in his voice, the hollow, terrified tone that was reflected in his eyes. "I've not been alright for a very, very long time." And I swallowed, because I had definitely suspected that was true, but doubted he would ever say it to my face.

"Is there..." I paused, wondering how to word it, because I didn't expect him to say those words so soon... I didn't expect to ever hear them, "Any way I can help you through it?"

"I want to run." He breathed, "And I want to fall and cry and kick and scream." His eyes flickered up to meet mine and he stopped dead, "And I have nobody. I have a house I don't want, I have no friends, the-they all believe I should have saved-save-s-sa..." He stopped and let out a long breath, trying to keep calm. There were tears in his eyes; he looked as though he was going to... I don't know.

"It's alright-" I started, and I watched him start to cry. _I'll be your somebody._

"I've never... I don't-"He started, and I put my finger to my lips lightly, taking steps towards him, wrapping my arms around him as he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He breathed in and out as I held him tight. "I don't want this." He whispered, and I pulled away, tilted his head up to make him look at me. "I haven't cried for two years."

His fingers wrapped around the top of my arm and I swallowed nervously, he jerked me forward slightly and I licked my lips, his breath cooled them, made me tingle. I let out a whimper and the words I wanted to say were gone.

"You're very pretty, Callie." I heard the words in my ears, combined with the blood pounding in my head, his fingers tightened on my arm and he leaned forwards, his lips touching mine quickly, softly, slowly. I forced myself away, trying not to lean back into him, desperate for him, but... I just couldn't. Not then.

"Thank you." I murmured; my eyes cast down, unable to look at him. He looked back at me; I could feel his gaze on the top of my head, almost burning into my hair. For a half second, I waited for the sizzle and the smell of burning hair to hit me, then I sighed and looked up at him.

"For what?"

"Telling me I'm..." There was an awkward pause and he looked away, offering me a chance to get out of the conversation. "I'm me." I nodded at him, rose from the duvet covers and pulled my hair back from my face.

"It's fine." I heard him reply as I walked away, "Because it's true."

A long silence followed where I stood, frozen in the doorway, my hand resting on the doorframe, my fingers feeling every flake of paint on the fucking wood, trying not to scream as his voice broke through the silence. He had surprised me again.

"I'm sorry." I turned to look at him and took a deep breath.

"For what?"

"I'm a pain. I've been here, blacked out for two days, and I've-" I held up my hand to stop him and let out a small giggle.

"It's fine. I wouldn't have brought you here unless I..." I stopped and looked away, "you looked like you needed someone, and I was there." I sighed and swallowed, offering him the chance to look away and end the conversation. I heard his voice and choked on a response.

"You don't know how much that means to me." He was hollow and tired once again, I nodded and closed the door behind me. I leaned my head back and rested it on the panels for a second.

"I-I do." I blinked and forced the words from my lips. Barely audible, but I had said it. For once, I had told the truth.

But he didn't need to know that.

Twenty minutes later, I forced myself to move through the house and pull on clothes that I didn't want to wear. The dark, uncomfortable jumper that clung to my skin and made me feel wretched, but it was warm; it was all I could wear in the snow. The black tights, designed to heat my skin from the outside, even when I'm walking around in the slush and frozen water. The skirt that wasn't warm, but I couldn't bear jeans; they would soak, get heavy and make me uncomfortable. Boots inlaid with Kerren Fur, the warmest in Ayera, and a scarf that would be warm for me.

"Peeta?" He appeared at the top of the stairs after a few seconds.

"Yes?" He looked at me, confused. "Are we going somewhere?" There was a long pause, "I don't really have any clothes."

"I know." I said simply. That was obvious, because I'd found him in pyjamas. _Duh_. "I was thinking, maybe, you could take one of the jackets in the wardrobe, and we could walk you home. It would be quicker, and that way... you wouldn't need to come back and return anything you borrowed." I wanted to lend him clothes, but if he wasn't comfortable, I didn't want him to feel obligated to have any contact with me.

"I... erm..." He looked lost for a minute, then he stopped and stared at me. "What if I wanted to come back?"

_ You're not supposed to ask that! You're not supposed to want that! You're supposed to leave so I can do this, go home and... not want to stay._

"You can always come here. I'm not going to stop you." It came out far colder than I had intended it to, but he knew what I meant. He knew I wasn't going to push him away.

I crossed the room, laid my hand on the doorway and looked over my shoulder. He was still standing on the stairs, holding his pyjama trousers at the waistband and running his hand through his hair.

"Thank you." He said, his voice rising, stunned, and his lips curving into a smile, "I think."

I left the room grinning like a lunatic.


	4. Get It Right One Time

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

**_This came about mainly because I don't think Catching Fire was right. So I'm pretending it's not real. And that Katniss dies, because I'm not so sure if I like her anymore._**

_ "...Don't look at me / When you've figured out / That the picture that you painted had too many colours..." –** Get It Right One Time **– Pete Schmidt_

**_Peeta Mellark, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games_**

_Silence_.

I wouldn't look at her, because looking at her in profile was so easy to do, but sickeningly hard to _stop_ doing.

Without a word, we crunched through the streets, me in my cold, barely-comfortable pyjamas, her dressed warmly and wrapped up tight, her lips pressed together in a tight line. She was concentrating hard on something I wasn't sure if I wanted to know about, but as she turned a corner, into the market square, I was bombarded with colours and the brightness of conversations I had missed. Callie froze in place, staring at the mass of people with wide, terrified eyes.

"Callie?" I broke our silence by whispering her name, then half-shouting it as she didn't respond. Her head whipped around to look at me, her expression that of an Aye-Aye. "Are you alright?" She swallowed noticeably and her eyes glazed over slightly.

"Crowds." She whispered, "That's probably my biggest fear. Apart from clowns." I let out a bark of laughter and she looked at me, her scowl noticeable and hurt. "I-I mean... it's funny, but... I get claustrophobic." She murmured and looked away, obviously embarrassed.

"I didn't mean to laugh." I shook my head quickly, but she didn't seem convinced. "It's the clowns thing." She stopped and looked at me again, quirking an eyebrow slightly. Her lips flickered into a smile and I held out my hand, trying to... calm her down, maybe? Make her feel safe.

"What... are you doing?" She said softly, her shoulders rose, and then tensed slightly and her fingers caught into a fist. I stepped closer to her, standing with her against the red brick of the building and watching her hands shaking slightly. I smiled at her and she looked down at the floor, then back up at me as I wrapped my hand around hers and ran my fingers across her knuckles. She quickly relented and I found my fingers entwined with hers, though as I straightened up from leaning on the building, her grip on me tightened and she looked up at me, hopeful.

"I won't let go of you, I promise." Her small, nervous smile broadened and she nodded, putting her other hand into her pocket. "Come on... It's not too far..." She nodded and I squeezed her hand again, pulling her into the crowd.

We made it about half way through the throng of people, their bodies pressing us close together and meaning that quickly I lost grip of her hand. I fought my way through the mass of people, but I emerged from the other side of the crowds alone.

"Callie?" I shouted and all of a sudden I could envision her, standing alone in a crowd of people, being jostled left and right and freaking out. Her bottom lip would shake and she would be pale, her eyes closed as she held her breath for the longest time and her heart would be pounding, scared.

My hands tried to force through the crowd, pressing myself through the people shoving me nearly sideways.

I stopped dead as she came into view. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and her eyes were, as I had imagined, closed tight. She refused to move as I reached her, instead, as I tried to undo her wound-tight arms, her knees buckled and she whimpered slightly, collapsing against me, her slight frame lighter than I had supposed.

"Callie?" She didn't respond, and I wondered how often I would, in this friendship, be met with silence and awkward moments. "Callie, please... can you get up?" She blinked her eyes open and looked at me, hurt in her eyes.

"You left me." She whispered, her lips pressing tight together again as she shuddered and then tried her feet to see if they worked. She managed a slight shuffling and I smiled encouragingly at her. "You said you wouldn't." There was a small pause, "I think I should go home. I think I should..." She sniffed and stepped back, away from me and bounced off the woman that had been walking past her at that very second.

"Callie?" I called her name and everyone around me stopped. Callie turned, her eyes wide in a panic and she let out a loud gasp of either fear or surprise, and then she turned and was gone, terrified, I assumed of the crowds. Of having to walk back home alone.

Of me? Of being alone.

I took a deep breath and bowed my head slightly, still seeing people staring out of the corners of my eyes. In the distance, I heard the sound of tyres squealing, and I hoped that Callie was safe – that it wasn't her in the way of those wheels.

"Katniss." I heard the name whispered through the crowd and my head whipped around, trying to see the speaker. Nobody was there... I was alone and I felt as though I was insane. She was dead and Callie was gone.

I let out a deep breath and turned away from them both, going... I blinked tiredly and looked up at the Victors' Village, gated and walled and shining beautifully.

I wondered if anyone had wondered where I had been.

----

When I pushed the front door open, I was bombarded with a billion questions, all in a high-pitched whine which made my head want to explode and then melt, or something along those lines.

"Where-?"

"Why?"

"Who-?"

But it was Cinna who, in the silence, the lull which followed the rambling, the explosion of noise that scared me, made me want to duck and hide and never, ever come out of my cupboard.

"You're smiling. I don't think you should be, but Peeta Mellark, you're smiling."

I caught my reflection as I brushed past them all, silent and, I hoped, brooding. Instead of that, the glance I caught was telling me that I had the smallest of small smiles plastered onto my face.

"Callie." I murmured as I looked out across the view from my bedroom. She was in one of the houses on the outskirts of town, far away from the Seam, beautifully decorated, somewhere near Madge and the Mayor's place. I wondered if Gale would be with Madge today. They had, apparently, been inseparable since the end of the Games, the loss of Katniss making them put aside their differences and join together... or something like that.

I hadn't, honestly, cared. They were a connection to a past life for me, something that still existed but that, even after only four months, I knew I needed to get past and get over. Something that I had to let go of, but, as I forced myself upstairs, into my bedroom and I looked around, I realised that everything there, everything that made up this life... I needed to get rid of it.

"Everything." I whispered out loud, probably excepting the clothes I had in my closet. There were school journals, textbooks, sketchbooks filled with landscapes, with Katniss, with my parents... with pain and with everything I'd hate to remember.

I pushed past Cinna, who was stood in my doorway, looking at me with some kind of concern; I spared him no words as I found a bag and literally threw everything into it. By the end of the next half an hour, I had only my family heirlooms and my old novels, things that were priceless and things that should never be thrown away.

I closed my eyes as I fell onto my bed, exhausted and tired, and looked at my ceiling as I rested in the comfortable squash of my duvet. My hands twisted into the duvet cover and I felt my cheeks run with tears, tears that I hadn't cried for the past four months because... I couldn't see a way out.

Now I could. My way out was starting over again, was fighting for something I never thought could exist beyond Katniss. My way out was fighting for Callie. She was funny and friendly and smart, and I think a part of me wanted to help her. I wanted to keep her a secret from everyone in this house, and I wanted to fix something I didn't know could be so broken.

I shut my eyes to the darkness and heard Cinna moving around the room, gathering things I had thrown to my floor.

"Peeta?" I blinked my eyes open and looked at him; he was leaning against my window frame and looking remarkably like James Dean in this light. I swallowed and rolled over, looking at him. "What... made you-?"

I looked up at Cinna and bit my bottom lip.

"I spent the night somewhere." I was deliberately vague, but he smirked.

"With a girl," He said softly, "I followed you when you went storming off." Another silence and he smirked again, "I won't... I think you need to shave."

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow; he merely returned the gesture mixed with a half-hearted shrug. It really was rather funny, but I was in no mood to laugh.

"Don't get too caught up, Peeta." He said softly. "You haven't been..." He paused, "You haven't been well."

"Don't tell me what I already know."

"... Maybe you should... tell her."

I looked at him, huffed slightly, then rose and went to shower, clean up and, for the first time in about two weeks, shave.

-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-

-x-x-x-

**_A/N the three people that have this on alert, I actually worship you_**

**_MsJacobBlack, I love you, because you review. YOU're the only person that does. Please, please continue, because it honestly makes my day._**

**_Positive coming up: _**

**_Please to be sending me 10 Words (or a phrase) and a pairing or Character from the following fandoms:_**

**_-Harry Potter (Weasley x Katie preferably)  
-Hunger Games  
-Alex Rider_**

**_You might be getting a christmas Present =  
(Closing Date? 10th Dec 2009)_******

_And a word on this story: _

_Obviously nobody else... cares? I know this is a story sans Katniss, but Seriously, people, there are other characters and do you not think there would be a completely different mindset to catching fire if something had gone wrong? _

_I hated how Katniss was Bellafied into the pathetic girl who couldn't do anything right in CF, and that she was dull and manipulative and that she kissed Gale. I have nothing against him, but I like the fire between him and Madge._


	5. Can You Hear Me?

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

**_More People Reviewed!... I love you all _**

_ "Everybody's Talkin'/ I can't speak a word / Underneath the White Noise / How Can I Be Heard?" – **Can You Hear Me? -** Richard Fleeshman_

**_Callie Flynn, Daughter of the Ayrish Ambassador to Panem_**

**_I panicked. _**

_I panicked because I was afraid._

_ I felt God-awful and then he let go of my hand. His fingers slid away from mine and I felt as though the heat of the world drained away with the loss of the touch of his fingers. He disappeared into the mess of people and I lost him in thick trench coats and furs. It didn't help that he was practically running away as I fought to cross the crowded square, filled with blank faces I didn't know. Those who didn't know me._

_ With a small whimper from me, someone crashed into my back, pitching me forward into someone else, and spinning me around so I couldn't see a thing. I put one hand in my pocket and flung the other across my chest, holding myself in and hoping that nothing would flash and nobody would shout out... I tried to shout out for him. For Peeta. He promised he wouldn't let me go and stupidly I believed him. _

_ I couldn't breathe. People were jostling me and I was shaking on my feet, leaning left and right and trying not to hold my breath – though I knew there was no way I could breathe easily. _

...

My whimpers would have been audible throughout the house – at least if anyone had been there with me. I swallowed and drew my feet up so they were nearly touching my thighs, wrapping my arms around my knees and rocking slightly, begging myself to stop shaking. To stop thinking about it. About Peeta.

He would have gone home. He wouldn't be looking for me, would he? He would have forgotten that I was here – he didn't know that I... that panic like this... it let me drift into headspace that frightened me. I didn't like it.

"Halloo?" I felt childish shouting out, but from my seat on the cold, white marble floor, I _was_ a child, shaking in my father's lap because I couldn't see my mother. Because I couldn't see my friends – because I was ill. "Anybody?"

Met with silence, I forced myself to get to my feet, though my legs were shaking and my chest was tight. Peeta Mellark. His name slammed through my brain and I stumbled. I wanted to collapse and scream and just fall away from everything. I managed to scramble to my room and fell on my bed, still shaking. I wanted my mum. There were no two ways about it, just a hole in my heart that I knew today had ripped open again.

Furious with myself after a few minutes of shaking, curling up on the bed with my hands clenching at the duvet fabric like a lunatic and just letting tears of hurt, shame and stupidity cross my face and fall to the fabric of the mattress; I got up and started throwing things.

Not simply throwing stuff either, but smashing things. Destroying things that shouldn't have been broken in the first place – the glass of water that I had left there from last night – when Peeta had needed something to help him sleep; the lamp, my books, everything strewn around the place and destroyed.

In the end, I crossed the room, my bare feet catching on the broken glass and blood seeping into the carpet as I took tentative steps over the cold, soaked carpet. My chest heaved at the pain, but I ignored it and left my bedroom to sit on the marble stone floor of the hallway. I was cold and my feet were bleeding, small, paper-cut like slices cut through my feet and leaving the floors with stains and footprints as I sank down against the wall and stared blankly at the one opposite.

Being here was doing nothing, _nothing _for my mental health.

"Fucksake." I hissed tiredly when I realised I had been staring into the paintwork without making a sound for the best part of twenty minutes. I was so... scared of this. Scared of being alone and scared of not being able to cope on my own.

There was nobody to call, nobody to ask for help – hell, I didn't know where Peeta had gone, and I didn't know where I could find a doctor, anyone who could patch me up. Standing slowly, I felt the blood on my foot, sighed loudly, knowing I would need to sort my feet out now and crossed to the bathroom, trying to find some antiseptic and tweezers. I didn't have a strong stomach, but I'd need to patch myself up. It wasn't an option to hang around, just in case they got infected... hell, I wasn't sure if there was anything in them either.

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I ran the taps and picked up a washcloth, running it under the warm water then dabbing at my now sliced-to-ribbons feet. Biting hard on my lip, I picked up the tweezers and split the cuts apart, just checking to see if there was any glass in them. They were deeper than I had assumed, though those on my heel and the sole of my foot were sore and painful – more than once I let out a loud yell and felt my head start to spin. I didn't think they would need stitches, however, so I simply dried them off and screamed in agony as I made my way back to my bedroom, my feet covered in Iodine and plasters, and blood all over the floor. Moaning as I got to my doorway, I took in the damage and decided that if I wanted to sort out my room, I would need shoes.

Twenty minutes of hoovering and picking my old, now battered and bruised books up left my room looking cleaner than usual and safe to enter for those who were fortunate enough to be barefoot. Desperate to talk to someone... anyone, I made my way down to the kitchen and found the videophone blinking with unanswered messages.

The first was my father, telling me that he was alright, and wondering if I was feeling well. I phoned him back and sat at the kitchen table as I spoke, resting my feet on the soft, comfortable chair opposite my own.

"Hey Dad."

"Callie! Are you feeling... any better?"

"I went out today." I looked down at the kitchen table and bit my bottom lip, "I got caught in a crowd and freaked out." He inclined his head when I looked back up, and I realised how tired and ill he looked. I couldn't deny that he had every right to look it, with everything that had happened and his daughter being across the world, I figured he could look how he wanted.

"Sweetheart..." His hand flew through his hair and twenty years disappeared from his face. He sighed and closed his eyes for a long minute. "I wish I was just a man."

"You are, Dad." I bit my bottom lip again, begging for the tears in my throat to burn themselves away and make me feel alright, "You're just an important man." I ducked my head again and wiped my eyes. The tears, finding the path I had just drawn, spilled over and I let out a wail as I fell forward onto folded arms. "I miss you and I miss mum... and I feel... so... alone."

He was silent. He didn't look at me and he kept his eyes trained over my shoulder, looking at the kitchen cupboard, or maybe the back door. I wasn't sure.

"I don't think you should, Cal', darling." He jerked his head slightly and I turned to look at the door behind me. A shadow was across the glass, and I stared for a second, wondering both who, and why they would be at the door. They knocked and I looked at my father, he nodded at me and smiled.

"Shall I..." My voice cracked and I wiped my eyes again, he smiled and raised his hand in farewell.

"I love you, Callie." He nodded, "I miss you too."

"I'll speak with you soon, Dad."

"Of course. Goodnight, Callie." He smiled and there was a click as he hung up and the screen went blank and black at the same time. I slowly crossed the room and unlocked the door quickly, pulling it open only to be met with a man of about twenty five, his hair slung all over his face and the snow in his hair melting and dripping down into his eyes.

"H-hello." I managed to stutter, and his lips did the same as his hand shook when he held it out to me. "Who are you?"

"C-Cinna." He shivered and I stepped sideways automatically, letting him into the house and telling him to sit down. Stupid, I know, but he was freezing his head off and I felt so guilty for making him stand outside in the snow. "I-I..." He looked at me and smiled. "You must b-be Callie."

"And you're Cinna. Nice to meet you. I still don't know... why you're here." I stopped and looked at him, shutting my eyes and shaking my head. "I'm bein' so rude." I sighed and he laughed lightly.

"Peeta said you were... you had a panic attack. You've got an excuse."

"More..." I looked at him and felt my cheeks blushing red, "More a flashback, but that's not the point." He smiled at me and I ducked my head and blushed even darker than I had been.

"I used to be Katniss' stylist." He paused, "I designed clothes for her and kept her looking good." He smiled at the memory and looked at me, "Peeta... smashed up his room," he paused, "and pretty much destroyed everything in it." He bit the inside of his cheek and sighed. "Are you alright?" He stopped and looked at me, "Your foot's bleeding-"

"I know. I trod in some glass." I said dismissively. "Why're you here?"

"I'm worried for Peeta. He's destroyed everything he's got... but he's smiling. He's happy, and that's a good thing, I mean... He's not been happy for a while... but... I wanted to see the person who..." He rolled his eyes at himself and sighed.

"You wanted to make sure I wasn't insane, suicidal or homicidal, right?" I laughed and shook my head. "I have my problems, sir, but I'm definitely not the latter two." He raised an eyebrow, "I had to get out of Ayera because I'm terrified of being at home."

"Why?"

"That's not important." We fell into an awkward silence, one nowhere near as comfortable as the ones I had shared with Peeta only the day before. They were filled with promise, these were tense and uncomfortable.

"Your feet are bleeding." Cinna muttered, "... and you're the daughter of the Ambassador, right?" he added the second part as an afterthought; I nodded, pulled a face and raised my eyebrows. "Hm. Different." He sounded surprised.

"What? Expected someone beautiful? Someone actually presentable at parties?" I muttered resentfully, though I didn't expect the bell-like laughter that exploded from his mouth seconds later, making me jump out of my skin as I looked up at him.

"You're not ugly. Trust me; there are at least three hundred people in this District that would find _you _attractive. And I think you've met... well, at least two of them." He laughed again and I ducked my head, blushing. He was making me change colour to seventeen shades of red, and I was muddling my words.

"Would you tea some like?" I spluttered with laughter nervously, "I mean, would you like some tea?"

"Yes." He nodded simply, "I'm bloody freezing." He paused again and looked at me, "I can do your feet for you, if you want... I can get you some paste to fix it, or..."

"They don't need stitches," I paused, "I've checked them over."

"Ah," He paused, "but you want them to heal, and you want them to be beautiful, right?" I laughed slightly.

"They're feet. How beautiful can they be?"

"Stunning," He laughed as I set the mug down in front of him. "Do you have a stylist, Callie?"

"No." I shook my head, "To be honest, I don't dress up. I avoid crowds like the plague – it makes more sense when you know me, so I have no need to..." I sighed and looked at him. He smiled back. This time, the silence was both comfortable and awkward at the same time.

We both knew what was coming, but neither would say it first. I paused and took a deep breath.

"I want to help him."

"Me too."

We looked at each other and Cinna reached out a hand to me. He nodded at me lightly and I took his hand, shaking it.

"Callie Flynn." I said lightly.

"Cinna." He smirked slightly, "And I'm looking forward to working with you."

-.-.-

-.-.-

-.-.-

**_A/N: Any guesses as to what happened to Callie in the past?_**

**_People that have this on alert, I actually worship you_**

**_MsJacobBlack, I love you, because you review repeatedly. You may have a mini-Cinna in your pocket. _**

**_To my other lovely reviewers (_**_M-x-M and Renn!!!!**), you're amazing, and welcome to the weird-review-reply-club. Thank you in advance for your reviews, you lovely people**_

_And a word on this story: _

_Obviously nobody else... cares? I know this is a story sans Katniss, but Seriously, people, there are other characters and do you not think there would be a completely different mindset to catching fire if something had gone wrong? _

_I hated how Katniss was Bellafied into the pathetic girl who couldn't do anything right in CF, and that she was dull and manipulative and that she kissed Gale. I have nothing against him, but I like the fire between him and Madge._


	6. Stay Strong

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

_"Back down Baby / Cuz we're not on our own / Gotta work together / We can't do it alone... " – **Stay Strong **– Steve Appleton_

**Callie Flynn, Daughter of the Ayrish Ambassador to Panem**

He stayed for the longest time, his hair slowly drying and his fingers warming up slowly but surely. Although thankfully he didn't look as though he would end up with frostbite or anything particularly serious, his cheeks looked particularly freezer-burned, flushed, red and sore.

"So..." He looked across at me, and I couldn't help but keep my gaze trained right back upon him. He blinked, and all of a sudden, we were caught in a serious staring contest, until I burst into a silly peal of laughter, giggles making me feel so lightheaded and making me feel so happy.

"So what?" I quirked an eyebrow and looked at him. He shrugged after a minute and I crossed my arms. "You want to know something, right? Ask the flipping question, Cinna. It's pretty easy to do..." He looked down at the table and I smirked slightly, "It's alright... it's nothing you can't find out on a News site..."

He looked at me and frowned slightly, then, as though a light bulb had exploded into life in the background, he half-jumped out of his seat and stared at me like I was a new girl.

"That's where I know you from!" A long pause, I frowned and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "You... your mother-" He dropped his voice and let out a soft squeak of surprise. "Oh." My expression must have been enough.

"Exactly." I nodded at him and he frowned back at me. "... Would you... mind if I was the one to tell Peeta?" He tilted his head and nodded at me after a few seconds, nodding quietly and returning to his seat.

Suddenly the air was empty and there seemed to be no more to talk about. It made me feel slightly ill and terrified at the same time. I needed to fill the silence with something, but I had no idea what.

"My mother died, alright!" I looked at him, my sudden outburst making him jump, his eyebrows shooting into his hair. "Yes, I was there. Yes, it still hurts and for god's sake, Cinna, yes, predictably enough, I went off the rails and..." I looked down at him – only then realising that I had leapt out of my seat and was staring down at him with my fist raised in the air. "Yes." I nodded at him, "Yes, everything running around in your head is probably true. The alcohol, the..." I stopped myself because if I didn't there would be screaming and hurting... and he wouldn't speak to me again.

I crossed my arms and sighed, looking down at the floor, a blush forty shades of pink crossing my face.

"The... being with guys?" I looked up at Cinna and saw his light expression fading. "That's all a fucking lie. There _were_ three of them, yes, but they were like brothers to me. I couldn't _do_ that," I paused with a shot of mirthless laughter, "Not for want of trying. They were my best friends... until the stupid papers got to them... and then..."

I folded my arms again, pacing furiously back and forth across the kitchen, even though every step sent a shooting pain through my foot, no doubt reopening the cuts and scrapes from the glass.

Cinna gripped my arms eventually, pulling me to a halt and pressed me into the seat where he had been sitting only moments before. I wrapped my arms around myself and he stood before me, shaking in and out of my vision as my breathing shortened and my chest starting pounding, my body aching all over as I slumped in the seat and then lost it totally.

"Callie?" I heard Cinna's voice, but I felt as though I was miles away from it, as though he was shouting from a long way off. I forced myself to look up and tried to calm down, relax, slow down and actually breathe. "Callie, do you want some water?"

_Useless._ I shook my head and waved at the cupboard vaguely, hoping he'd get the message. There were pills in there, there were things I could take to calm me down, to make me relax... but he didn't get it.

"What? What do you need?" I looked up at him and his face paled, "you're white!" He gasped, "like... paper white!" I rolled my eyes and managed to gasp out the words he needed to hear.

"P-ills," I managed to squeak, my chest wheezing, "Please..." I was barely conscious now – there was nothing in my chest that would let me breathe naturally. There wasn't a way I could function properly now – no oxygen in my chest and I was practically choking on it.

I shut my eyes and as he pressed the pills into my palm, and the water onto the table in front of me, I managed to squeak a 'thank you' before I necked the medicine down.

"Will you be alright now?" There was silence, punctuated only by the shallow breathing that was echoing through the room. "Is there something I can do?" I stopped and looked up at him, shaking my head, "Someone I can call?" I stopped and considered it.

"You may as well..." Then I looked at him, the worry lines in his eyes, creasing them as he blinked nervously and looked at me, his eyes dark and his smile awkward enough to make me feel nervous again. "You may as well go... I'm just going to go to bed, I think."

"You're sure?" He paused for a long moment as his hand rested on the back of my chair, "You'll be alright?"

"Yeah..." I stopped as I wavered to my feet. "Erm... would you be able to get some stuff for my feet? If I paid you... if I came to get it from..." I stopped, my eyes glazing over at the thought of the crowds again. Before I could panic I felt my hands reaching for the water, so I could concentrate on balancing my breathing. "P-Peeta. I could get it from him..."

"How 'bout I send him down tomorrow?" Cinna smiled lightly, "I'm sure he'd like to see you again-"

"I'm sure he would." I stopped and ran a hand through my hair, my pills kicking in as I felt lightheaded and tired. He smiled at me and I rubbed my eyes again, thinking I needed to find my glasses soon, if I wanted to read up on anything before tomorrow, so I could get everything right before I opened my mouth and spilled everything... before I smashed out every single word of panic and fear and made him... made Peeta feel even more awkward than I was going to.

I ran another hand through my hair as Cinna left, then, as I shut the door, I giggled as I realised that Cinna was half of Cinnamon. I knew, then, that I needed to go somewhere and just lay down.

Ten minutes later, I rolled over onto my side, curled up on a blanket and holding myself together with my arms crossed over my knees, pulling me into a ball. Closing my eyes, I tried to hold onto the thought that Peeta would be coming tomorrow, and, at the very least, I would be able to explain something to him... to tell him what's happened... what...

I felt my eyes closing and wondered if he'd hate me for being the person I used to be.

:-:-:-:

**_A/N: BAHAHA! Ermm.. .yes, evil, I know. _**

**_See, Katniss has NOTHING on Callie... Her past is... interesting, trust me._**

**_Any Guesses? It's kinda obvious, I think, but I'd welcome it! _******

**_Review?_**

**_x_**


	7. Inevitable

**Disclaimer: I twisted the universe, Suzanne Collins invented it. She makes the money. I get nothing. **

**_More People Reviewed!... I love you all _**

* * *

_"Cardboard Boxes Took Us Miles / From What We Would Miss..." – _**Inevitable**_ - Anberlin_

**Callie Flynn, Daughter of the Ayrish Ambassador to Panem**

The longest days are those when you simply feel alone. They are days in which you cannot assume that you will be alone forever, and yet, no matter how many people surround you and give the impression of a fully functioning, busy life, there is nothing you can do about the distinct, hollow feeling that says _You. Are. Alone. _

My eyes opened in the darkness and I blinked twice to try and focus my vision before it blurred uncontrollably again and I was left to sleep off the drug for longer than I had intended. I kept my eyes on the ceiling, determined to lose the fog that had taken over my sleep and made me scream on more nights than I really cared to recall.

I sighed when I heard the knocking, knowing that I had slept far longer than I had intended to. The light had finally faded from the walls of my bedroom, and I had had nightmares upon nightmares of home. Of the days when I shook in the home I lived in because I didn't understand what had happened to my mother, the things that I didn't get because the hands that took me away refused to let me go.

Dreaming of my mother was the most painful, especially when those dreams were coupled with thoughts of Peeta. _Peeta Mellark, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games_. He liked to fight, in my dreams, and he liked to make me think about things I didn't understand. His lips were twisted in pain, his eyes waiting for the person in front of him to leave and for him to be left alone, small and weak, terrified and scared.

"Hello?!" I shouted into the darkness of the house, and the knocking only intensified, I sprinted down the stairs, attempting to ignore the pain in my feet and the whimpering I wished would stop as I strode towards the door. _My whimpers_, I scolded myself as I finally made it to the door, pulled it open and nearly fell to the floor as Peeta practically swept me off my feet and threw me onto a chair. "Peeta! What the hell are you-"

"Take your shoes off, please," He slammed my front door shut and finally stood before me as though I were the house guest and he were the host.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I looked up at him and noticed he was staring back at me, confused but clean-shaven and looking a lot more alive than he had almost a week ago.

"I could hear you... _whimpering,_" He spat the word as though it had offended him, "from **_outside_**!" He said hurriedly, avoiding looking into my eyes where I was just staring at him, hoping for an explanation. We were silent for a few moments before he decided to speak. "Please take your slippers off, so I can put the stuff I've got for you on them? They'll heal in about... two days if I do?" He held up the phial of potion, watching me with a small smile and a little hesitation in his eyes. He took a step forward and reached for my foot, but I pulled back, drawing my feet from his grasp and practically sitting on them. "You know," He murmured with a half smile, "I'll have to touch your feet to put this on them..." He sat on the floor beside me and my mind really didn't understand why he was sitting there, watching me in silence.

"No." I shook my head, "But I'm ticklish," I said softly, "Stay there while I do it, alright?"

"I..." He stopped and looked at me, a frown crossing his face, "I should probably go-"

"No!" I managed to yelp out as I both took the bag from his outstretched hand and felt a jolt run through both my foot and my hand. My face heated up almost immediately and I looked over at Peeta, who had a small grin on his face, and was staring about... a foot south of my face. "What?" _I really hoped... he wasn't looking at me._

"Your shirt's covered in blood." He murmured; panic immediately exploding into his eyes. "What happened?"

"This?" I tugged at the shirt and looked down at it, frowning a little bit and sighing as I realised exactly what it was. "Oh." I ducked my head, "It's... it's not blood anymore..." I managed to say, my throat closing up as though somebody had wrapped their hands around my windpipe. "It happened quite a long time ago, and by the time I got the shirt in the wash... it had stained... but it was one of my favourite shirts." I sucked at explanations. This was just an excuse...

I busied myself with simply slathering my feet with the minty-smelling blue goop that Peeta had supplied, and waited as he watched me, frowning slightly and then smirking as I gasped loudly at the soreness and aching that suddenly enveloped my feet.

"I shouldn't have done this here." I said softly as I let my feet hang off the edge of the sofa, watching him smiling softly from the floor.

"Why?" He frowned slightly and I smiled, rolling my eyes.

"Because I can't _go_ anywhere. You know, my feet are kinda out of commission right now." I waved my hand at them vaguely and he laughed lightly. "What's so funny? You're supposed to be smart enough to tell me that before I start!" He let out a full on belly laugh as I shook my head and put it into my hands, willing some kind of darkness to overcome me and let this be a dream.

"That's why I'm here, stupid," He said eventually, after his giggles had subsided, "I'll be... your butler for a while, and we can..." he stopped and looked at me, up through his lashes as though he was a child about to reprimanded, "Maybe we can talk?"

I felt my shoulders tense and switch inwards, furious at myself as my chest started to ache. I didn't want to tell him, but if we were going to be friends... I had to. I took a deep breath in through my nose and shut my eyes.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" I shrugged and looked up at him as he clambered off the floor. "Before we do, butler boy," I smirked as he tensed slightly, "Would you go to the kitchen and grab me the bottle of water that's on the table, and the box that's next to it?" He got up, nodding as he did so, "Oh!" I yelled after him as he turned out of the room and made his way as I had asked, "And feel free to raid the cupboards for yourself!"

His laughter rang out through the whole house, and I smiled to myself as I leaned back against the couch cushions and shut my eyes. He came back a few seconds later, lifting my feet and settling down under my calves.

"Is this okay?" He murmured as he handed me the bottle of water and my pills. I paused for a second and watched him. He didn't look as though he was going to pull anything, so I shrugged and nodded, leaning back and looking up at him, watching his eyes as they darted between the box I was holding, my bottle of water and my mouth. As his gaze lingered there, I saw him lick his own lips, and I couldn't hold back the smile that lit my face. _Peeta Mellark. Unhinged by me? _

"Sure, why not?" I spoke slowly, deliberately shifting my lips and my hips at the same time, determined to irritate him just a little bit. He nodded and we settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional words we spoke.

The silence grated after a while, and I found myself sitting there, getting annoyed because the glances Peeta kept giving me, as though I was going to explode any second and he would be too close to the blast to get away in time. Rolling my eyes at the next stupid glance, I sat up a little bit and prodded him in the arm. He jolted into life and stared at me.

"You wanted to talk to me, didn't you?" I quirked an eyebrow and he nodded, looking almost surprised at the reaction he himself had produced. I smiled and rested my head back against the arm of the settee. "Ask away, and I'll do the same."

"Okay," He fell silent for a minute as he considered a line of questioning. I sighed and looked at him as he mused. His eyes were a lot brighter today, and he had shaved, so there wasn't a pathetic excuse for a beard crossing his face. The corner of his lips quirked up into a smile as he caught me watching him, and I felt the desire to poke him hard with my foot as he let out a little, empty chuckle.

"What?" I asked again.

"Nothing!" He said, a little too innocently, and I almost growled.

"Got one yet?" I asked softly, trying to dispel the tension as we watched each other. He nodded and shifted slightly so we could face each other. "Are you going to ask it?"

"Give me a chance to breath, Callie." He grunted, then looked at me with a smile. "So, why're you in Panem?"

_Oh, sure, start with the simple thing._

"Pass." I said simply. He raised an eyebrow and I shrugged diffidently, "Doesn't mean a thing until you know the rest of my story." I didn't want to argue, but saying _'running away'_ probably wouldn't help my case

"Surely the rest of your story is the reason why you're here?" He countered with an arrogant and annoying smirk. I kept silent and stared defiantly in the other direction as I fought the tears that were burning at my throat. "Okay, can I ask a different question, then?"

"Sure." It came out more constricted than I would have liked it to, but it came out, nonetheless... and that was all that mattered. "Take your best shot." Though he had made that one his first question.

"Why did you choose to come to Panem? Why not go somewhere else?" I bit my lip as he spoke and I closed my eyes as I realised I could answer that one. It would be painful, and it would hurt, but I knew it would start something new.

He waited patiently for me to take my deep, long, horrible breath and blurt out the words before I could even think about them.

"MyMotherhadn'tbeenhere." I realised that my accent probably wouldn't help his understanding, so I slowed down a little bit, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at the corners of my eyes.

"Callie?" His hand came out to touch my cheek and I shifted back a little bit, out of his reach, my chest tightening as his fingers changed course to wrap around my wrist. "Callie... what is it?"

"My mother never had the chance to come here." I said it slowly, fury bubbling up in me as I shook in my seat, tears coming thick and fast, streaming down my face. "Okay? She went everywhere but here. It was next on her list."

"Then why doesn't she come out to see you?" He said it innocently, but the anger, the ire in my chest was almost too painful to think about now. It was simple, really, why she wouldn't... or couldn't come to Panem.

_Oh, so simple. _

"Because she's **_dead._**" I looked up at him, watching his reaction. "Alright with you?"

"No," He whispered, just before he threw his arms around me and practically crushed my windpipe. "Oh, god, no."

-.-.-

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-.-.-

**_A/N: Any guesses as to what happened to Callie in the past? Any Questions for Peeta to Answer? Any Questions for Callie to answer... _**

**_People that have this on alert, I actually worship you_**

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews, you lovely people**_

_And a word on this story: _

_Obviously nobody else... cares? I know this is a story sans Katniss, but Seriously, people, there are other characters and do you not think there would be a completely different mindset to catching fire if something had gone wrong? _

_I hated how Katniss was Bellafied into the pathetic girl who couldn't do anything right in CF, and that she was dull and manipulative and that she kissed Gale. I have nothing against him, but I like the fire between him and Madge._


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